


How the 501st Prepares for a Mission

by My_Dear_Feather



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Armory, Breakfast, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Hardcase has Great Fun, Humor, Kissing, M/M, Pining, Poor Dogma, Talking about Future of clones, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29754735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Feather/pseuds/My_Dear_Feather
Summary: ‘Wake up men!’ Rex exclaimed, ‘I want you all in the gunships in twenty minutes and ready to destroy some clankers!’Twenty minutes is enough for some funny stories to happen…
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/CT-7567 | Rex, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives/CT-5385 | Tup, CT-5597 | Jesse/CT-6116 | Kix, Dogma/Hardcase (Star Wars)
Kudos: 28





	How the 501st Prepares for a Mission

All always began with a firm gloved hand hitting a metal bar of one of the bunk bed. Five blows: it was the signal. Then, a familiar voice, easily recognizable for its cold and strong tone, used to give orders like this one:

‘Wake up men!’ Rex exclaimed, ‘I want you all in the gunships in twenty minutes and ready to destroy some clankers!’

This kind of unpleasant speech on the morning was always followed by sleepy grumbles, indistinct complaints in the racket, furious cries or snores from the big sleepers having heard absolutely nothing of all this. Well, I’m generalizing.

Some of them – the maddest ones mostly – were shouting with joy in the second Rex had left the barracks and were jumping out of their beds as if they had had a full night sleep and were perfectly in shape, loyal to their programming.

The rookies were no exception: lest to be rebuked for their delay, they never stayed in bed for long but fortunately spared their inexistant joy to their brothers. Indeed, most of the others were neither happy nor very motivated, which sometimes created unlikely funny stories, as this morning in Torrent Company’s barracks.

Dogma was one of those who, in the second Rex disappeared, were out of bed and ready to slip in their armors, not by excitation but simply because the Captain had ordered so.

During the second half of the war though, it had become a lot more difficult to be ready right on time for a simple reason: he now shared his bed with the unpredictable public danger of the 501st known as Hardcase, because of a shared love none really knew the cause.

And here’s how it went: when the Captain turned out of the room, Dogma gently pushed away his riduur’s arm at his right which one second earlier was circling his torso.

‘Hurry up, Hardcase’ Dogma exclaimed, moving towards the edge of the bunk and kicking the blanket in order to get up, ‘you heard the Captain?’

The only response he got was an arm wrapping again around his waist, as silently as a snake, effectively refusing that Dogma put a single foot out of their bed. The clone stopped, surprised, then lowered his head towards this mute arm around him with a questioning look. It wasn’t really the answer he had waited for and anyway, he didn’t even knew what that meant.

‘Hardcase?’ he asked to the arm gripping him, ‘what are you doing?’

But apparently, the clone wasn’t very talkative that morning because he just abruptly pulled him to him with this arm fiercely tied to his riduur’s waist and as soon as he was close enough, back near him in the middle of the bunk, he crushed Dogma with all his weight while all his victim could do was shouting some ‘Hardcase!’, some ‘No, not this again!’ and some ‘Stop!’ before his riduur firmly pinned his wrists above his head and passionately kissed him.

Around them, the clones burst out laughing because it was easy to guess how much Hardcase was enjoying keeping a stressed and rushing Dogma in bed because he was too weak to resist him.  
Anyway everyone really liked that because how many times did the severe clone shout them to hurry up when seeing some vods slowly putting their armors on? They couldn’t count anymore and preferred admiring this cheerful show where Dogma could absolutely do nothing against Hardcase’s grip and wild kisses.

‘Pl… please…!’ Dogma stammered, panting while his riduur was catching his breath, ‘we’re gonna be… late!’  
‘Exactly…’ Hardcase grumbled as if this was a dark desire, before leaping on the clone’s weak neck to make him whine.

Not far from them, Jesse was spread on his bunk, noisily snoring while everyone was dressing. Of course, Kix had got up before everyone to go get the medic material he would need for this battle. He came back after some time and was absolutely not surprised to see his riduur still spread on their bunk, deeply sleeping.

Lifting some caring eyes to the heavens, he landed his medic bag to the ground and threw Jesse’s imposing armor on the bed he had himself picked up for the ARC.

‘I brought you breakfast too’ Kix said, smiling when looking at the clone waking up with a start and bits of his armor all around him.  
‘You?’ Jesse vaguely stammered in a sleepy voice, shyly raising his arms in the air as if he demanded a proper hug.

Kix had a little laugh, exasperated but blushing. Predictably, the ARC didn’t need to repeat himself because the medic gave up easily, sitting on the edge of the bunk and accepting that Jesse’s big arms wrapped around him and gently brought him to his lips.

Kix sighed in the kiss: this was tempting… Pity they had to leave because otherwise, he gladly would have given himself to Jesse who, seeing from how he now worked with his very affectious lips, he would have done a very good job between his thighs.

‘Tonight, for your dinner maybe…’ Kix whispered, playful when meeting Jesse’s dilated and illuminated eyes, ‘if you behave well that is.’

The ARC smiled, ready to respond something like ‘But I always behave well…’ and Kix then would have had no other choice than melting under this so tempting voice and to simply let himself be turned on his back so that Jesse could get what he wanted – as usual – but this time, he couldn’t afford this, when knowing a battle was imminent. The 501st medic wasn’t used to be late to do his duty and was too clever to let a handsome clone delay him.

‘This includes you being still alive tonight, too!’ Kix then added with a firmer voice, ‘and you won’t be if you go fight having missing breakfast, so get up!’

When Rex returned to his barracks for the last verifications after having woken his men, Cody was still there, though drowsing in the bunk they shared. Closing the door behind him, the Captain thought his riduur was lucky not to be sent to the battlefield this time. He had heard from General Skywalker this battle was gonna be hard, as always actually, so Rex expected the worst.

A weak whine behind him interrupted his dark thoughts. Turning, he saw Cody in the darkness yawning largely, rubbing his eyes then straightening like a cat. Once done, he calmly sat on the edge of the bunk: his features seemed rested and peaceful, showing stress of an incoming battle wasn’t pressing on his shoulders.

‘Sorry, I didn’t want to wake you’ Rex vaguely said, avoiding his look as much as he could to focus on the settings of his armor.

Stress had kept flowing around Rex for far too long, even if the night had been quite good, thanks to Cody’s tenderness. So he had had a hard time finding courage to get up, to take his serious and confident tone to speak to his men, and now, he was struggling with his armor: pulling at his kama when it was stuck, strumming furiously at his comm which refused to light up… Honestly, he knew very well there was gonna be one day the battle would beat him, not the other way around.

‘Come on, come here, you make me pity’ Cody said with a voice half amused, half sorry.

Rex, who suddenly felt weak and tired, immediately approached and let his riduur exterminate his problems in two seconds, one after the other with a softness which slightly calmed him down.

When he finished, when Rex was ready to go, the Commander petted his cheek with his large hand and forced him to meet his resigned look. Cody’s seemed to be firm and strong but compassionate and he joined their forehead for a moment, as for their souls to hear each other and to softly and silently say goodbye.

The saddest seemed that their bodies and responsible attitudes looked like adults’. But they were not adults. They breathed slowly together, knowing all the stakes and thus, how moments like this one really mattered.

There was not a word. And when they parted for a simple kiss and Rex left the room with a last look back, Cody was wearing the exact same one on his brave face: a mutual ‘Good luck’.

Meanwhile, in Torrent Company’s barracks, while everyone seemed to hurry slipping into their armors, two clones were peacefully taking their time, settled on a bunk. Eyes half closed, Tup was sat cross-legged, tenderly enjoying the petting and massages Fives – just behind him – was taking care of offering his scalp as he brushed his hair.

Sometimes, only his fingers were slipping between his long, silky and wavy brown hair, sometimes a comb gathered them softly to shape a tight bun… and apparently, both enjoyed that a lot.

‘Where do you think we’ll go this time?’ Tup suddenly asked in a sleepy voice, or more likely hypnotized.

‘I just hope it won’t be Umbarra’ a clone called Ringo grumbled, trying to put on his armor near the couple, ‘I heard a conflict had begun there and personally, I don’t want to go fight these ghosts… nor the giant carnivorous plants… nor the new weapons they have created… nor…’

‘Don’t worry’ Fives reassures, putting a hand on Tup’s shoulder who wouldn’t stop looking at Ringo slightly worried, ‘wherever we go, I’ll never be too far to protect you.’

And with these words, he finished Tup’s bun and petted his back to encourage him to get up. The clone shyly smiled, thanking him both for the bun and the gentle words, then got off the bunk in front of Fives who kindly helped him with his armor, like the perfect caring riduur.

At the other end of the room, Jesse had begun eating – or more likely devouring – the energy bars Kix had brought him while this one, eyes narrowed with concentration, was tapping his short hair blindly, a small sharpened blade in hand. Visibly, he was too scared to make a mistake because he was applying it centimeter by centimeter, with only the touch of his fingers to guide him. Next to him, Jesse smiled, amused.

‘Sharpening your lightning bolts?’

‘I’m trying at least’ Kix stammered, tongue between his teeth while his blade collected some little brown hairs, ‘… not easy without a mirror…’  
‘Why? Want to scare the clankers?’ Jesse joked, swallowing his last bite, ‘you’ll wear a bucket, remember?’

Kix smiled slightly – he had never been able to resist his riduur’s jokes – but didn’t say anything, having apparently too much things to think about. Very discreetly, he then turned his look away from Jesse so that this one couldn’t see his blushing face. Unfortunately for him, only a few things managed to be hidden from him now. The ARC trooper smirked when he realized why Kix was actually restyling his hair.

‘It’s to be even more beautiful that you’re doing this… isn’t it little Kix? Come on, come over here and give your head to the specialist…’

The medic turned, shameful to have been caught so fast but also happy because his lightning bolts being sharpened by Jesse was one of his greatest pleasures of the morning. His riduur seemed indeed to be even more careful than when Kix was brushing his own hair and feeling him so focused and meticulous – which didn’t happen very often – was inexplicably making him full of joy. Maybe somehow, the medic felt privileged to be the cause of one of Jesse’s rare attention.

Getting closer to him, giving him the blade and lowering his head to give him full access, like a perfect act of submission Jesse didn’t miss to exploit, Kix let him pet his hair, accepting to be the ‘quiet little Kix’ the ARC loved to play with.

A satisfied kiss was then landed at the core of his scalp, and Jesse finally got to work. The sharpening of his lightning bolts lasted only five effective minutes during which Kix tried to stay as immobile as possible.

And believe it or not, but with Jesse’s enormous leg innocently wrapping around his that was peacefully hanging against the edge of the bunk, it was far from easy.

Kix let him, knowing well the hardest would then be to free from it, but he didn’t want to distract Jesse, who definitely had a thing to make Kix’s emotions very fuzzy in order to make him give up to the temptation and forget the fixe schedule they had been given.

When finally, the clone finished retracing the lightning bolts in Kix’s short hair, he simply raised his chin with his gentle hand to which resisting is impossible and Jesse couldn’t help but smile when he met his riduur’s look in a trance, caused both by the soft gestures in his hair and by this leg wrapped around his.

‘Handsome…’ Jesse softly commented when admiring his artwork.

In fact, his tone was so gentle that when he bent to kiss him, Kix didn’t push him off and even let himself be pushed backwards, the back against the bunk when their lips met. The medic was so weak and easy to master if taken by very slow gestures, not forcing to anything, but so good and promising of so much more… Jesse was then like a big spider around him, about to close his trap on a well-deserved prey. Tasting his tongue, their torsos brushing… he had almost won…

‘You make me crazy, Jesse…’ Kix whispered between two kisses, ‘and tonight, I’ll be entirely yours… for everything you’ll want… everything… but right now… we really need to move… otherwise tonight will never happen… please…’

Reluctantly but these words resonating like a music to his ears meaning both wisdom and shared desire, Jesse freed his lips and straightened, helping him to get up. After all, he knew well that renouncing to this now was hard for both of them but at least, there was the hope of the next night and Kix’s promise to accept everything.

With the bit of comfort this thought brought him, he noted this day would be dedicated to imagine the worst things which could fill their next night. So, he happily rose.

Near them, two other clones didn’t seem to care as much of the schedule given by Rex. Or at least, Dogma didn’t seem to manage escaping Hardcase’s embrace as easily as Kix with Jesse. Indeed, by an unknown phenomenon, Hardcase had probably gone so deep in Dogma’s mouth that he seemed to have absorbed his soul, or anyway, all his strength and determination to get up.

There was nothing left of him but a softened body, miserably laid down under a Hardcase happier than ever, and so much in a fuzzy state he didn’t even remembered where he was, nor why Hardcase was still holding his wrists whereas he had given up all resistance for long now.

Unable to formulate a single word and reduced to some ridiculous whines to ask for more, we could say Dogma was a mess and would get up only when his riduur would decide so.

‘Hey! Hardcase!’ a clone passing nearby suddenly said, surprised when he saw Dogma beneath him as soon as the addressed clone raised his head, ‘you’re gonna be late guys…’  
‘That’s perfect, thanks vod’ he smiled very proud of him, ‘I want to see Dogma wet his armor so much when Rex will ask to explain our delay!’

The clone burst out laughing and wished Dogma an ironic ‘Good luck’, but the clone didn’t even seem to have heard him because, having lost the possessive warmth of Hardcase’s lips, he was now mewing some keen little sounds in order to ask some more. And his demand, of course, never lasted long before being satisfied.

‘I’m coming… I’m coming… I’m here, my Dogma, don’t worry…’

Maybe it was this he loved the most in Dogma: making the strict, the straight become as disorganized, messy and tender as possible in a record time. Because it wasn’t easy – oh not very difficult either – but that brought even more satisfaction than just doing him some good by politely asking him if he could touch him to relax him.

Because Dogma hated that word. Anyway, Hardcase bent on him again and kissed him more gentler, enjoying this time that his riduur’s lips immediately gripped his like suckers.

Around the couple were now clones in armors swallowing their meager breakfast brought from the mess by some kind souls like Kix. By the way, Fives and Tup were joyfully taking benefit of it, still sat on their bunk, chatting but mostly listening to the conversation Denal shared with Hawk, the 501st pilot who was finishing to get ready. 

‘If you want my opinion, I’d say the war will end when politicians will have nothing more to drink!’

Politics were rarely spoken about in the army’s ranks, it wasn’t really the clones’ style, but when it happened, everyone always agreed, who knows why. A few laughs resonated around them, because it was true they had rarely seen senators acting and doing something else than talking in five stars building, a glass of the best nectar of Corusant in hand. Anyway, despite the laughs, Denal seemed very serious. He pursued:

‘It’s obvious when they’ll have destroyed the last planet and killed their last gold resource, they’ll stop their endless and senseless discussion and finally agree on a peace treaty! This is where the war is going on, in both sides, all warm on sofas, not here on the frontlines, in all this mud, in freezing gunships, in front of clankers and under pain shouts…’

‘They’re all the same, those politicians, anyway’ Hawk nodded with a sad tone, ‘they’re just selfish who don’t give a kriff about us. They don’t even know what the war means… We could tell them we have won this front and lost the previous one and they would continue to lead the war as if we had really fought on those planets…’

Tup burst out laughing when hearing that, because he had thought about it himself and had always wondered why the Generals, a lot more skilled than some senators, weren’t taking care of all the diplomacy in their place in order to prevent the blood from flowing.

Of course, they had been repeated a hundred times during their training that the separatists were monsters you can’t reason, but contrary to what people thought of them, clones weren’t either stupid, nor children grown too fast.

‘So what will happen to us once the war ends?’ Tup asked, ‘if it ends one day of course…’  
‘Normally, they should free us’ Hawk answered, sighing, ‘say ‘thanks a lot’ and send us in a place where we can start a new life… well, that’s what we always hear, who knows if that’s true…’

‘I think’ Fives declared in a dark voice in intense thinking, ‘when we’ll cease to be useful to the Republic, they will use us in another way, as killing machines they could sell to someone else, if they consider we’re still their ‘propriety’. But, if they find none, they could clearly exterminate us all too. We all know kaminoans are crazy, right?’

His words were followed by a tensed silence, during which the terrified Tup looked at Fives who took his hand, speechless. The clones seemed to have forgotten their breakfast and stayed that way for a moment. Finally, Denal dropped:

‘Let’s hope Hawk is right then, because if they really intent on exterminating us, or exploiting us for another war, I’d prefer to die for you guys, rather than knowing us all condemned to this fate… and I’ll fight until I die.’

Fives nodded to signal his approbation, followed by the others.

***

In the still empty armory, two rookies were looking at all the weapons around them, like amazed, but in truth rather undecided. They had no idea what they were supposed to take with them, nor the quantity they could carry, since their armor was already very heavy and limited their movements. Sergeant Appo then seemed to mysteriously appear behind them, making them both start:

‘Listen rookies, take one weapon of your choice, only one and a mandatory bomb, in case you’d be trapped by clankers to be able to escape, or if you really can’t make it out alive, to do as much damage as possible and avoid some painful interrogatories.’

The two rookies glanced at each other, half panicked and took the bombs the sergeant was holding. Seeing their faces, he inexplicably smiled, far too relaxed to speak about their possible death and he left the room, giving them a friendly tap on the shoulder.

After that, the armory welcomed a crowd of clones of the 501st at the same time, and with them, a joyful and agitated hubbub typical of the pre-battle. The two rookies were quickly invaded and left the room as fast as possible.

‘Do you think I’ll become an ARC trooper one day?’ Tup asked, searching for his weapon in his locker.

Next to him, the head in his own locker, Fives had a smirk while he slipped his electric dagger in his reserved place, along his right leg:

‘Of course, you’re incredibly skilled, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before Rex reward your talent. All you have to do it to be patient and destroy as much clankers as possible. Then, when you’ll be stepped up, you’ll have to pass the ARC formation… It’s an intense training, that’s the less we could say. But if you go through the end, you’ll be able to wear an armor as imposing and shining as mine…’

He slipped his head out of his locker and looked at Tup whose eyes were shining with dream and hope. Licking his lips – because the clone was really adorable like this – Fives then made a step towards his riduur and intimately cupped his face, before adding with a soft and desiring voice:

‘… and I’ll be so proud of you that I’ll congratulate you very warmly for your attribution… all night long…’

He landed a kiss on the lips of the clone trembling with joy and haste. When they parted, several looks were already turned towards them but they seemed to not see them, and anyway, they didn’t care.

‘How can you ask me to be patient?’ Tup smiled, exasperated as an excited child, ‘I could never wait!’

‘Oh, but you must wait’ a mocking voice behind them said, and they realized it was Jesse, ‘believe me, you won’t be disappointed, it’s totally worth the wait… isn’t that right, Kix?’

At the ARC’s right, the 501st medic seemed very focused to add some medical material in his bag, well… until he heard his riduur’s words. At that shameful memory, he dropped the bandages he was holding, stopped all action to turn to him and pointed a threatening finger, full of reprimands:

‘Shut up, Jesse, I’m still wondering how I’m still alive after the night of your attribution. And I surely won’t be ready to live that again when I’ll be stepped up…’

The ARC burst out laughing, keeping himself from dropping a mocking ‘I’ll be more than ready…’. Despite his silence, Fives and Tup seemed to understand his message and laughed too. Anyone could very well imagine the poor Kix vainly trying to hold out and bear all the pleasure – becoming a torture – Jesse was determinedly instilling him. However, none had really the time to hang about and they hurried to get ready.

Mostly Fives and Jesse because the ARCs had a far more imposing equipment to constantly carry on their armor: like grapnels, demining tools, more grenades… Thus, Kix, his bag on one shoulder and Tup, his only weapon in hands, looked at their riduurs put a significant amount of things in their armor, here and there, at very specified places, or just where it could still fit.

After that, both left to join Rex with who they had to make the count of the clones present before getting into the gunships, but not before Jesse had quickly lifted Kix’s bucket to kiss him and put his helmet back in the same second before escaping, before the clone could say or do anything, thus leaving him with the hand reaching for the armory door and an eager whine stuck under his bucket. Despite all his efforts to contain himself, the ARC couldn’t have helped it.

Fives and Jesse presented themselves several minutes later in front of Captain Rex who looked bad, though he was trying to hide it. They placed themselves on each side of their superior and waited for the other clones.

However, Jesse discreetly slipped his head in the gunship where Hawk was already settling in the piloting sit. The ARC gently tapped against the door and the clone turned towards him, a friendly smile on his face.

‘Hi, Hawk, do you know where we’re going?’

‘I’ve been given some coordinates of the outer rim’ the pilot answered, strumming on his dashboard, ‘but I can’t be more precise for now. I just hope we’ll be able to land without crashing this time… If that’s one more of these planets with a kriffing climate…!’

Jesse thanked Hawk with a friendly laugh then returned to Fives and Rex, already beginning to list the clones present in front of them, before sending them in the gunship. When the ARC joined Fives, it was two familiar clones who presented themselves to Rex. Under his helmet, Jesse winked.

‘Kix reporting, sir!’  
‘Tup reporting, sir!’

The Captain ticked a few boxes on his list and exclaimed – not having noticed that the two clones were barely listening to him and were only looking at their riduurs, both so handsome in their imposing ARC armors:

‘Hi Kix, it’s good to see you, Tup… ready to destroy some clankers? Come on, synchronize your comms and you can go…’

***

Dogma entered the armory running and rushed to his usual blaster, shouting a ‘hurry up!’ to a very relaxed Hardcase walking calmly towards the armory, yawning. Hearing that so hurried and stressed tone, he raised an eyebrow, as annoyed, and delivered a threat which made him smile when he found it:

‘Calm down, Dogma… Don’t make me ‘delay’ you again…’

Dogma turned to him, both outraged and panicked because these very clear words meant increasing the troubles they were in:

‘No you won’t, I guarantee that! I’ll fight you!’

‘You won’t fight me’ Hardcase cut with a childish smile, approaching the rotary blasters he liked so much, ‘you love that, your long sensitive flower told me everything…’ – then he addressed to his favorite blaster with a naughty voice – ‘hello you…’

‘Why did you have to do that this morning in particular?’ Dogma grumbled, indignant.

Hardcase now headed towards the little grenades, looking relaxed, grabbed two and began juggling gently with them like a spoiled child.

‘Because what I love the most, is to see you struggling then melting under me because you know you can’t resist me. Because I really love to see you embarrassed and stressed like the perfect guilty in front of Rex and the General… You have no idea how it makes laugh… And then because seeing you angry at me wakes a true love fire in me… Above all when you realize you’re still unable to resist me...’

He burst out laughing, turning to Dogma and realizing he was deeply blushing because of a shameful truth discovered and exposed: it was difficult to discern what feeling was invading him to the idea Hardcase knew every one of his reactions and loved them all.

Whether he was crazy in love, calm or angry, he always felt defenseless in front of Hardcase who everytime found a way to take benefit of the situation to play with him, his body or his emotions.

Anyway, the naughty was gently approaching him, his grenades still in hand, like the perfect seducing bounty hunter, then when he was only a few centimeters away from Dogma’s face – who wouldn’t dare moving since Hardcase’s presence completely hypnotized him – he whispered, their noses brushing, teasing:

‘Don’t show that face, please, it makes me want to let off all my love on you again until you’re drowned… And anyway, I thought you liked my wild side?*’

Dogma’s eyes seemed to grow even more and inside, the desire he couldn’t hide. Sticking the grenade against Dogma’s chest which made a little ‘pop’ when it entered in contact with his armor, he smiled because fully satisfied to have as undressed his riduur in the inside.

Destabilized and as shy as when they were about to ‘explore’ each other, the clone took the grenade between his wet hands without leaving Hardcase’s look who then added:

‘There, I see it… And I’m sure you can see it in my eyes too. This little thing you can’t hide, because your pupils shout it for you. Now, unfortunately for you and whatever you’ll say, it’s difficult to confuse their message with anything else: they scream ‘I love you’.’

And on these soft words, Hardcase moved towards the door, his grenade in his pocket and his rotary blaster in hand, leaving the poor Dogma still completely hypnotized and dizzy. Hardcase had definitely an effect on him he couldn’t explain. Rushing to follow him, he closed the armory door and tried to join his riduur, running again:

‘Yes, but what if Rex learnt why we’re late?’

***

‘General Skywalker’ Rex announced, his back straight, ‘we’re almost ready to go, but two men aren’t here yet, I’m sure they’ll be here very soon.’

The Jedi vaguely nodded and went in the gunship without asking question, leaving Rex sweating in the middle of the room – Jesse and Fives had entered the gunship too now. Looking at his list, he noticed the name ‘Dogma’ was still not ticked.

‘Strange, it doesn’t look like Dogma… usually, he’s more likely to be the first to arrive, not the last… Something’s wrong for sure…’

Then, he looked at his list again, slightly lower, towards the second name unticked yet.

‘Ah, I’ve just understood what was wrong… Hardcase…’

Barely had he finished his sentence that the door of the room opened wide and revealed a Dogma running as if his life depended on it and so breathless he struggled to present a straight back to Rex and his voice clear:

‘Dogma… reporting… sir…’ he stammered, trying to catch his breath.

Behind him, at the door, Hardcase had just appeared, apparently in great shape because he was arriving at a calm step, as if he’d just meditated with General Kenobi. His rotary blaster was peacefully resting on his shoulder when he arrived in front of Rex and his frowned eyebrows, but seeing from his detached tone, Hardcase didn’t catch his angry look:

‘Hardcase reporting…’

Rex didn’t exactly knew what to say when seeing these two opposites: on one side, Dogma, the last one, which didn’t look like him at all, and next to him – surely the cause of his delay – Hardcase, very relaxed while all the battalion and the General were waiting for him. So, he decided to make it simple and taking an authoritarian and unhappy tone, he declared:

‘You’re late, men…’  
‘It won’t happen again, Captain!’ Dogma exclaimed, standing at attention as if he was now expecting to receive a punition and was imploring his superior.

‘I hope you have a good excuse to justify yourselves’ Rex mumbled, putting down his list but ready to forget that event.

Except he had apparently tackled a slippery slope and Dogma seemed unable to answer. His face blushed very quickly but he didn’t dare to look away lest to be reprimanded, and he had visibly no idea of what to say – probably they had done something forbidden or shameful – which was giving a very entertaining stuttering:

‘We were… We were doing… uh… I… We were making…’

Inside down, Dogma was praying Hardcase – he seemed to have a lot of fun – not to have the abominable idea to say ‘we were kissing’ or ‘kriffing’ because he would then faint, probably with shame in front of his superior and his riduur’s victorious face. Anyway, it wasn’t even his fault they were late since Hardcase had more or less forced him… Even if he had loved that moment. His brain was visibly overheating because, against all odds, Rex gave up:

‘Okay, forget it, synchronize your comms and hurry to board…’

Instantly, Dogma obeyed, still very embarrassed and rushed to the gunship while Hardcase peacefully walked, on the verge of tears. Once again, he had got what he wanted and was escaping all punition or warning. The day promised to be good.

‘… and Hardcase…!’ Captain Rex exclaimed when the clone walked passed him, ‘remove that smirk from under your helmet!’

**Author's Note:**

> *They have discussed about Hardcase’s wild side on ‘One of the Greatest and Weirdest Experience for Them Both’.


End file.
